


his name is tk

by evaneddie



Series: dhylen writes one shots [31]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, SO, Shooting Guns, a very angsty fic based off the promo for 1.08, and honestly? i am in need of this ep like NOW, lots of blood and shooting talk, rosewater and gillian appear in this too, some small medical jargon i picked up on from code black and the night shift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22906696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evaneddie/pseuds/evaneddie
Summary: tk gets injured on the job, getting shot as the team attend a call
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Marjan Marwani/Mateo Chavez
Series: dhylen writes one shots [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1433956
Comments: 28
Kudos: 247





	his name is tk

**Author's Note:**

> this came to me after watching that promo, and i needed to write it. i am not even sorry for how angsty this was most of the way through it.  
> let me know what you think :D

"There's been a shooting."

Those words never sit well with Carlos, which of course is understandable. His whole job as a police officer is to protect the people of Austin, and even if it wasn't, that sentence would still never be nice for him to hear. But there's something that's pulling in the back of his mind, something that tells him to worry a little more than he usually would. As he speeds off with the light bar flashing and the sirens on, he pushes it to the back of his mind.

"Suspect is white male, early forties, brown hair, green eyes, raised scar on right cheek, and violent. Believed to be instigator of multiple domestic abuse complaints." 

Replaying the information over in his head, Carlos focuses on getting through the peak hour traffic. Even in Texas, there's a decent amount of cars on the road at certain times of the day, no matter what anyone thinks. Most people assume Austin is all red dirt and grass eating hillbillies, but it's also a city, just like anywhere else. Okay, maybe not exactly like, but it's not all that different.

"Dispatch," he talks calmly, "any information on the victim?"

"No, we can't get ahold of the team on site. Possible hostage situation." Wow, things couldn't possibly get any worse. "We do have a name though; TK Strand."

Oh no. Shit. How the hell did Tyler get shot?!

His stomach drops at the sound of TK's name, it drops so fast he almost has to pull over to be sick, but he can't. The more time he wastes thinking about it, the more opportunities the world has to fuck with the man. 

The breath he's been holding since he heard the name escapes in a jagged rush, pushing past his pursed lips with a frown on his face. This shouldn't be happening.

It can't be happening. TK is a firefighter, for crying out loud, not a cop. So how does a firefighter get shot? He's been through so much lately, he doesn't need this on top of it.

With that thought, tears sting at the edges of Carlos' eyes. One wrong move can undo everything TK has been working so hard for. One drop of the incorrect medication could send the New York man into a downward spiral, and Carlos can't have that. 

"Can you patch me through to the 126 please?" I takes every ounce of self control Carlos has to not sob when he opens him mouth to speak.

"Sir, with all due respect," comes the voice of the dispatcher, her tone seemingly bored.

But he cuts her off before she can continue. "Now."

So she does. 

He's flying past so many cars in a blur, and he can barely pay attention to his surroundings, as if he's driving on autopilot.

"126 come in. This is Officer Reyes, someone talk to me." When everything settles down, he knows he's going to hate himself for how desperate he sounds right now, he's going to roll his eyes at the tone replaying in his mind and be frustrated that he wasn't able to keep his cool. 

But at this particular moment, when there's a life on the line, a life that he has come to care for quite deeply and fast, it doesn't matter to him what he sounds like. The only thing that matters is making sure TK is going to be okay.

"Michelle, please respond to me."

Silence.

"Somebody?"

God, this can not be happening. Why do his worst nightmares always come true? 

It's been a while since he's done anything remotely to do with religion, religion he left a while back. Until now. Now he prays. He silently prays that TK is going to make it through this, and that things are going to be okay.

"Please," he whispers. Then, in his regular voice once again, "I don't know if anyone is there, but please for the love of all things Holy, don't give Tyler any morphine or any other strong opioid medication. I'm not sure how he would feel about codeine or hydrocodone or anything, though."

He inhales deeply, knowing that he will be there in the next minute and a half, and prepares himself for the worst.

"Just, try not to give him anything other than over the counter stuff, at least until he can tell you what he needs if he can't already."

Saying all of this could be a big waste of time. TK could be conscious and alert, telling Michelle not to give him stuff, or to give him whatever because he wants the pain to stop. Carlos tries not to think that way, knowing his friend is strong. But if worse comes to worst, and he hadn't told them about his addiction and they'd already given him stuff, Carlos will be there every step of the way to support him through whatever he needs.

When TK had opened up to Carlos about his recovery status - granted it wasn't detailed, which Carlos is okay with because TK's comfort level is important - the latter had done some research into addiction of substances. Sure, he'd experienced things to a certain extent with being in the police department, but he didn't have knowledge all that in depth about it. Hours later that night, twenty something pages into Google search, he'd probably taken in enough information to last him a lifetime.

"Please," he again mutters under his breath into the walkie. 

He pulls up to the apartment complex with three other patrol vehicles and he barely unclips his seatbelt before he's bounding out of the door.

The other uniformed officers are jogging behind him, taking the stairs two at a time, and by the time they get to the third floor, all have their guns drawn, ready for whatever they are about to meet.

The thought of TK being hurt and dying makes Carlos not only ill, but also absolutely terrified and angry. Angry at the world for doing this to TK, at whoever the person is that hurt him, at himself, even, for not being able to protect him.

As they walk in unison down the short hallway, Carlos can hear the soft voice of Michelle, pleading with TK to stay conscious, begging whoever is threatening them to let her work on TK's wound.

Hearing those words, that all of this is real and not some sick and twisted dream, damn near sends Carlos spiralling.

"Austin PD, put your hands where I can see them!" he shouts, raising his weapon and rounding the corner into the apartment. 

But the man doesn't listen, instead, he chooses to lift the handgun he's still armed with, and two of the other officers to Carlos' right fire a round each. 

Everything is happening to quickly for Carlos to comprehend. Usually things going at a fast pace is something he enjoys, something he looks forward to, but not today. Today was different, for obvious reasons.

On the ground near the entryway he sees TK's pale form, a red crimson blooming from the middle of his torso. It looks really bad.

The blood soaks into the carpet, and if it were any different colour, it would instantly stain it. But it's the same shade as the thick liquid, confusing Carlos' senses, not knowing what's TK and what's the rug.

Wondering what wise-ass jokes TK would be cracking if he were awake, Carlos shakes his head, holstering his piece and falling to his knees next to TK, his hands instantly putting pressure on the injury.

Michelle is there, talking medical terms to Rosewater, and words other than "start an IV" and "gauze" flow in one ear and out the other sequentially. He thinks the paramedic captain is saying something to him, something about moving his hands.

The 126 firefighters are working on the shooter and the woman Carlos assumes called for the help in the first place. It appears that she's gotten her hand stuck in the garbage disposal of the kitchen sink. 

No matter how many scenes Carlos works, nothing will ever prepare him for seeing such copious amounts of blood. Especially the blood of those he cares about. 

He forces himself out of the mild trance he's been in since he arrived, and talks to Michelle. "Michelle, did you hear me on the radio before? You can't give him anything too strong."

"Yeah, I heard." Then, taking in his expression rapidly before moving back to work on TK, she continues, "Carlos, we're gonna do everything we can, okay?"

He knows that. Everyone in this room that he is knows is absolutely amazing at what they do, as if they were all born to do it.

"How's he doing?" Judd shouts from where he and Paul are working on the shooter. Neither of them will be enjoying saving this man's life, but they will do what they have to to save him because that's the type of people they are. They don't get to decide who deserves to be saved, they just do the saving and move on.

"BP's falling, we gotta get him to hospital now," replies Rosewater, his face flushed with emotions and exertion.

Michelle has to forcibly move Carlos' hands out the way so she can pack the gunshot wound in TK's abdomen, and watching the blood pulsate out scares the shit out of him.

Carlos doesn't let go of TK's hand the entire ambulance ride, needing that little bit of contact between them, to prove to himself in some way that TK is still there with him. He also hopes that somehow the unconscious man can feel him there, and pleads with the universe that it helps keep him grounded.

"He's going to hate me," Carlos whispers admittedly, his voice breaking on the last two words, not wanting to believe them. He wants to add 'if he wakes up' but decides against it, because he knows he can't be thinking negatively like that. "The whole team knows now, and while you are all his family, he would have wanted to do it in his own time."

Staring at his blood soaked hands, Carlos forcibly blinks away the tears threatening to spill over the cliffs. If he lets one fall, it's going to become a cycle of endlessly streaming wetness, and he needs to stay strong. For now, at least.

"I don't think that man has the capability of hating you in the slightest, Carlos," Michelle comforts, talking while she's working. "I've seen how he looks at you, with complete adoration. He will know you did what you had to do to protect him."

He nods, not sure if he can agree with her, but he tries. "I just want him to be okay. I really, really like him. We're taking things slow, you know? Giving him time to heal after everything he's been through, and getting to know each other. The longer I know him, the more intense feelings I have."

Sighing, he clamps his eyes shut, blocking out the harsh lights in the back of the ambulance. "That sounded selfish. I don't want him to be okay just for me, but because he deserves it and so much more."

"You really got it bad, huh?" Michelle doesn't wait for his response, she just smiles knowingly at her friend. "How long has he been clean for?"

"Almost four months," Carlos says proudly, with a soft smile on his face.

When they arrive at Austin Memorial, Carlos is left behind as multiple doctors swarm around TK on the gurney, wheeling him through the double doors. Michelle rattles off his stats and the fact that he's a recovering addict, informing them that they can't give him much in terms of pain relief when he wakes up.

If. If he wakes up.

That's when Carlos loses it. The stoic façade he's been holding up drops, and he collapses to his knees to the side of the entrance that houses a single row of seats, leading into the waiting room.

Sobs wrack his body, and he clutches at his knees, attempting not to focus on TK's drying blood on his palms, running up his arms almost to his elbows in some spots.

He doesn't give a care in the world if people see him right now. They can see whatever, they can think whatever, he just can't find it in himself to care. The one thing he cares about is beyond those doors, heading to emergency surgery, where so many issues could arise. Thinking of said issues only makes things worse for him, and his cries are no longer silent.

He doesn't look up when he feels a pair of arms wind around his body, holding him tightly. He doesn't stop crying when another arm snakes around his shoulders. Nor does he say anything when there's a delicate hand on his arm, squeezing gently.

He does, however, open his eyes for a moment when he hears his name, swearing up and down in his mind that it sounded like TK. But it can't be. Clearly.

It's Owen. Owen called his name, and is now sitting in front of him, a sturdy hand on his knee, and tears in his eyes.

The whole 126 is around him, in a sort of unconventional group hug, each of them holding him and each other. Judd too. 

Judd, the tough guy, the older brother to the team, rubs Carlos' back soothingly, sniffling as he does so.

Nobody dare asks them to move, not having the heart to break it up. They're not really in the way of anything, so it doesn't matter all that much.

Carlos doesn't know how long it takes for his tears to stop falling and dry up on his cheeks. It feels like hours upon hours. 

Paul is on Carlos' left, sitting cross-legged with an arm around the latter's waist while the other rests on his wrist.

Judd sits behind him, a hand on Carlos' back and another on Mateo's shoulder, who's to Carlos' right. 

Mateo has the arm around Carlos' neck, and his head rests on the uniformed officer's bicep. 

Michelle sits next to Owen in front of Carlos, her hand on his other knee and head on Owen's shoulder. 

Rosewater and Gillian are on the hard plastic chairs right behind Judd, but Carlos' hasn't looked at them, not having the energy to turn around just yet.

Marjan sits in front of Mateo, facing him, her hand on Carlos' arm, and her legs bunched up to her chin.

Carlos watches as she trades glances with Mateo, speaking a silent language that's clear only they know. Without a word, she reaches her free hand out and offers it to Mateo, who seems to give her a questioning look at first, like he doesn't want to disrespect her by touching.

"Please," she breathes.

Mateo nods softly and takes her hand in his own, still not moving from his position on Carlos' arm.

That's the only word that gets spoken amongst the group until a surgeon comes by six hours later. 

Over the course of the afternoon and evening, they had all moved around a bit, oftentimes getting up for bathroom breaks or to get coffee and snacks. Every time one would leave, there would be no words exchanged. Just a knowing nod or two from Owen and one of the others.

At some point, Owen had wet a bunch of paper towels from the bathroom and used them to clean Carlos' hands, for which he is grateful and will express his gratitude the moment he knows he can talk without losing it again. 

"Family of Tyler Strand?"

The entirety of the 126 - with the addition of Carlos - shoot up from their various places mixed between the hard chairs and the most likely very unsanitary linoleum floor. 

"Woah," the surgeon mumbles, clearly shocked at the sheer amount of people that stood up for the one person. "Okay, there were a few complications during the surgery, where he went into cardiac arrest twice."

Owen holds a tight grip on Carlos' arm as the doctor speaks. 

"Tyler's heart was restarted each time after a few minutes and -"

"His name is TK," Carlos interrupts, even if he shouldn't.

"Apologies. TK had a severe GSW to the abdomen that ripped through his intestines, but was so very lucky that nothing serious was hit. He was given a lot of blood and is currently in the ICU recovering in an induced coma." The doctor's green scrubs are splattered with droplets of blood where they meet his shoes, and Carlos wonders why he didn't take them off before coming out here, but on the other hand is glad he didn't waste time in doing that so he could deliver the news as soon as possible.

A coma? That is never something you want to hear. But, figuring induced is better than one TK slipped into on it ow, Carlos reminds himself to breathe. TK is alive, and he's getting the best care he possibly can.

"Can we see him?" Mateo asks, his voice watery from unshed tears.

It's now that Carlos notices his hand still in Marjan's, and it makes Carlos smile slightly. The way this whole team care for one another is beautiful, like a family. No, not like a family, actually a family. Somehow, Carlos had become a vital part of that family, which is one of the most amazing feelings.

"Two at a time," he replies before turning around getting ready to lead the first people in the direction of TK's room.

"Cap, take Carlos with you. We can see him afterwards," Marjan states simply, swiping at a stray tear on her cheek.

The rest of them nod in agreement at her words, and Carlos thanks them silently with his eyes.

If Carlos uses his badge to his advantage over the next week by telling the hospital that he has to stay for TK's protection, he tells his boss something different. He tells his boss that he needs the time off to stay with TK - which isn't a lie - but doesn't mention the overnight stays.

By some miracle, his Captain allows him the time off on such short notice. Never one to use sick days or holidays that often, Carlos had a lot banked up, so it was easy to get the approval from higher up.

He remembers last night, sleeping hunched over with his head on TK's lap, holding his hand with his own, whispering that TK had to wake up, that he's falling stupidly in love with the man.

"Carlos?" he hears the raspy voice of TK call out. 

"Hey, Tiger," he whispers, a smile lighting up his face. "Would you like some water? Your throat is probably sore from being incubated."

TK returns the smile, weakly. "Yeah, please."

They sit in silence as TK adjusts to the heaviness of the coma wearing off. Still, Carlos had not released his grasp and hadn't planned on doing so any time soon.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you," Carlos frowns. "I'm so sorry you got caught up in this mess in the first place."

"No, baby, shh. Not your fault." A small grunt of pain emits from TK's mouth as he moves on the bed, trying to get more comfortable. The pet name he calls Carlos hangs off his lips, settling smoothly in the air surrounding them.

"I'll call the nurses, get them to give you more ibuprofen."

"More?" TK queries.

"You've been in and out a little the last two days. And don't worry, I made sure nobody gave you anything opioid based."

At Carlos' words, the firefighter's features soften. "Thank you, Carlos. So much. I'm guessing the team know, now?"

Carlos hums a yes, dipping his head. Nothing is ever easy for TK.

"We don't see you any differently, kid," Judd announces as he walks through the door with the others on his tail.

"So glad you're okay, brother," Mateo mutters, leaning down to give him a gentle hug. TK returns the hug, trying his best not to move too much otherwise a pang of blunt pain hits him like a truck.

"I know you're thinking that I'm mad at you for telling them, but I'm not. I am glad you said something. I don't want to relapse," TK whispers to Carlos later once everyone has expressed how haply they are that he's okay.

It doesn't take long before TK is out of sorts again, still feeling the effects of whatever medication he's been given over the course of the last six and a half days. The entire team chill out in his hospital room for a few hours, much happier than the last time they were all in the same room as Carlos.

"You're going to give me a heart attack one day, Tyler Kennedy," mumbles Carlos into the back of TK's hand. "I love you," he whispers even quieter, so the others can't hear him."

It's nice. He's really glad TK has a support system like this. It's going to be a long road, but everyone is going to be here for him.


End file.
